


Parting Ways

by AdventureHobbit3791



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Adorable Connor, Connor (Detroit: Become Human) is Bad at Feelings, Connor Deserves Happiness, Deviant Connor (Detroit: Become Human), Everyone Is Alive, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Good Dog Sumo (Detroit: Become Human), Hank Anderson & Connor Friendship, Hank Anderson Swears, Protective Hank Anderson, World War III, for now
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-04
Updated: 2018-09-04
Packaged: 2019-07-06 22:48:17
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,232
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15895713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AdventureHobbit3791/pseuds/AdventureHobbit3791
Summary: “To prevent further bloodshed, we have no other choice than to administer a draft. As of today, April twenty-third, 2041, the U.S. Congress has passed the Android Draft bill. This bill is effective immediately, with very few exceptions.”Eight months into World War III, the countries suffered heavy losses. They had no choice but to utilize a draft to fill the mass of empty positions, but not just any draft. The Android Draft. Hank and Connor are forced to say their goodbyes. Set after the pacifist ending. Inspired by the mentions of tension from Russia in the game.





	Parting Ways

**Author's Note:**

> Firstly, I'd like to give a HUGE thank you to my two Beta readers, "hollowxo" and "feena-c" on tumblr. They saved me a lot of hassle, and if it weren't for them I probably wouldn't have finished this so soon - or maybe not at all. Their suggestions were more than helpful, their timing was great, and I'm just really, really appreciative for their help :) Thanks again Betas!!!
> 
> -
> 
> I really suggest listening to the DBH soundtrack when reading this. I listened to it as I wrote it, and I feel like it really helps to immerse readers into the story.  
> For those of you who are unfamiliar with the term, "draft" refers to a system that selects citizens to serve in the military. The last draft in America was in 1973, as the Vietnam war ended.  
> Also, AO3 is really weird when it comes to indenting new paragraphs... I may go back and remove the indentions later on, idk yet.
> 
> Oh, and I apologize in advance :) 'happy' reading!
> 
> -

The quarter dancing along his fingertips glittered, generating a soft whirring sound. The entirety of the drive had been spent in tense silence, and the _thunk-thunks_ of driving over speed bumps only punctuated it. Sumo sat up to compensate for the shift of the seat, lifting his drooling muzzle from Connor’s knee – where it had been resting the whole way. Their furry companion could sense that a big change was approaching, coming closer and closer as they neared a cluster of long, low buildings. Whining, the dog eased back to his previous position, finding some comfort as the android returned to scratching behind his ears.

        Connor’s gaze lifted to scan the airport, and that… _emotion_ filled him again. The same one that he’d only felt seven times before, the first time having been when Amanda had attempted to reclaim control over his programming, and the most recent when he’d zipped his duffel bag this morning, signaling the imminent. Now it was happening again. Longing. Indignance. _Dread_.

        Sumo whined again, and Connor realized that he’d stalled in scratching the troubled dog’s head. He pocketed the coin and combed his fingers through the canine’s fur, pulling his gaze from the buildings. This anxious feeling was making his systems’ temperatures rise, and Connor drew in a slow and calming breath before the red text could advise him to do so. A fan hummed within his chest and he exhaled the now-warm air, closing his eyes. Perhaps, if he focused on analyzing the interior of the car, then it would delay their arrival a little longer. Connor knew better, of course. He wasn’t _that_ naïve, …but it didn’t stop him from trying anyway.

        He scanned the two beings accompanying him, burning their images into his memory drive. Hank had just decided to change his appearance for the better, too, although he didn’t do anything crazy-modern. His hair no longer hung by his jaw, and  was now shortened to a more professional style – yet it was still longer than Connor’s hair by an inch or two – and his beard was trimmed to a flattering length. The air filtering through the A/C vents made the smell of Hank’s cologne drift into the backseat of the car, and the android took the opportunity to analyze the assortment of chemicals too.

 

        **COLOGNE**

**BRAND: OLD SPICE [LINE: HAWKRIDGE]**

Contains: Dipropylene glycol, water, propylene glycol, sodium stearate, –

 

        His evaluation was interrupted, however, by the sound of Hank jerking the gearshift into place, signaling they had come to a stop. It was clear that the man was still fuming at their situation. He’d made certain to punctuate that fact, that Connor wasn’t the one he was angry with. Regardless, it didn’t make Connor feel any better. The android reopened his eyes to meet a pair of blue ones through the rearview mirror. They flitted away, and now Hank was staring ahead, gripping the wheel with such ferocity that his knuckles had turned white.

       Connor frowned and mentally chastised himself for stirring right away. Hank had been watching him, trying to memorize this peaceful, domestic life they’d only had so long to enjoy together. Had it really only been two years? Cliché as it may sound; it really did feel like it was just yesterday when the revolution had succeeded. Now, though? Now, the world was at war, and androids were once again suffering for something humans had caused.

       He counted exactly 12.49 seconds before Hank moved again. He’d half-expected the man to say something. Instead, Hank climbed out of the car and stuffed the keys in his pocket. Delaying the inevitable, just as Connor had been doing. Connor was grateful. He wasn’t ready for any form of goodbyes either.

     Looping Sumo’s leash around his wrist, Connor exited the vehicle as well. His military-issued boots ground against the damp gravel. He waited until Sumo joined him, collar jingling, then walked around to the rear of the car.

     Finally, the silence between them was broken. Hank pried open the trunk.

    “If you didn’t have that damned LED, I might mistake you for a man, kid.”

     A thin smile was his only response, and he moved to claim the bag. Hank reached it before him.

     “Let me carry the damned thing, you’ve got Sumo.”

      Connor considered pointing out that, in fact, it would be more logical for them to swap roles. He could carry far heavier loads with minimal difficulty, and Hank was still in the intermediate levels of restoring his physique (per Connor’s prompting, of course). He decided to let it go, though, recognizing the man’s want to be useful in the powerless position he was in.

      Checking-in at the airport was a challenge in itself. He was positive that the required amount of security intervals had been fulfilled, but upon security’s insistence, he found himself going through four extra clearances - his baggage being checked twice more than necessary - and Hank had his own problems with bringing Sumo in. When they were finally clear to navigate the main floor, they found themselves pressured for time, and Hank suddenly grew appreciative of Connor’s prompting to leave two hours ahead of schedule.

      There was a constant drone of baggage being rolled, mingling with the chimes of phones and occasionally being overpowered by the PA system speakers. All of this only amplified Sumo’s restlessness, and Connor had to adjust his audio interface to a more comfortable level. A quick scan, and he was able to calculate the optimal route to take.

      “Follow me,” He instructed, and soon the small family was making their way to the terminal, passersby giving them a wide clearance. Connor was unsure if it was due to them having Sumo, or if it was him being an android. He had a strong suspicion that it was the latter.

     They reached the waiting area outside the gate with approximately 38 minutes, 22 seconds to spare before the scheduled takeoff. As they took their seats, it was clear that many were still unhappy and disturbed by the situation. Both humans and androids were having tearful partings.

      A few humans had chosen to sign up for the war effort to spite the government’s decision of drafting androids for their use, their own small form of defiance. It was a brave choice to have made, but Connor couldn’t help but feel that it was pointless. Even if it did manage to irk the government, their only retaliation would be to ship in more androids until they needed to dip into the human population. And it wasn’t like America was the only country to put the Android Draft to use. “ _To prevent further bloodshed,_ ” they had claimed. But what did that make androids? Didn’t they bleed too?

 

      So much for the progress Markus had made in strengthening the bond between androids and humans.

      Releasing another breath, Connor eased back into his seat, the whirring of his  ventilation fan slowing. His attention filtered through the swarm of people around them, spotting a businesswoman refilling her suitcase from where she’d dropped it, a pair of fathers trying to calm a fussy infant, and then a lone android waiting by a neighboring terminal. Upon closer analysis, Connor deduced that the android was returning from the front. His uniform was decorated once, his LED was caught in a constant cycle of red, and - to confirm his suspicions - the freshly polished boots had foreign soil lodged in the soles.

     Before he could let himself wonder what might have caused the red LED, his attention landed on the queue for boarding the plane. Androids were waiting in two single file lines, wearing the same military issued uniform that Connor was clothed in. A pair of armed humans stood at the gate, distributing LEDs for the line of those who had been going without. A meaningless requirement, with little explanation provided behind it. The two cops knew the real reasoning behind it, though. It marked them as expendable.

     “So,” Hank yawned, “you gonna pick up any girls while you’re over there?”

      Connor looked to Hank and lifted his brows, not bothering to hide his easygoing exasperation, “I believe you already know the answer to that, Lieutenant.”

      “Hey,” he shrugged, patting Sumo on the head as the dog moved to sit on Connor’s feet. “You never know what might be waiting for you, and you wouldn’t be the first. At least I don’t have to worry about you knocking any of ‘em up.”

     Connor ducked his head at that, shoulders quivering as he smothered his chuckles. “No, no I don’t think you need to worry about that either.”

      Hank huffed a laugh and smacked the android’s shoulder, but his smile was tight, the laughter forced.

     Lifting his chin to face him again, Connor’s half-smile faded. With just one look, their lighthearted conversation took a turn down a more serious path. They both looked at the floor.

     “...Think you can write to me?”

      Connor listed his head, considering it, “I believe that communication via electronic networks would be more effective, don’t you agree?”

      A rough scoff answered him. “C’mon kid, anyone can write that shit. ‘Sides, letters went out of style when I was your age anyway. It’d be nice for them to start trending again.”

      He resisted the urge to correct Hank’s reference to his age, nodding instead. Perhaps it was a good idea after all, to give the man something to look forward to. “I suppose that I can attempt to do so, if that’s what you truly want.”

      Hank leaned back and folded his arms, “Good, and I’ll write back, ‘kay?”

      “Okay, maybe they’ll allow us video calls as well.” His LED cycled yellow while he scheduled times for writing on his internal calendar. He blinked, and the LED returned to blue.

     Hank watched his kid with an amused smile. “Y’know, you’ll have to learn to pick your fights too. I won’t be around to crack noses for you, or clean up any messes you get yourself into.”

      Connor dipped his gaze again, and he soon found himself stroking Sumo’s head as a diversion. “Yes, I’m aware.”

      “And it wouldn’t hurt for you to make friends either. Never know when you’ll need someone to have your back out there.”

      “This isn’t just you trying to tell me that I have bad communication skills? I _was_ a negotiator, you know.”

      Hank tried for a chuckle, but it lacked enthusiasm. “As well as a damn good interrogator. But let’s face it, that social module of yours is bordering on defective.”

      “Well… I will neither deny nor confirm that statement.”

      That got a true chuckle out of the man, but a chime over the PA system cut him off.

     _“All passengers for flight DAL 3227, five minutes remaining for boarding."_

     The woman’s voice repeated the advisement twice more, and then the small family was left to their thoughts. Despite the chatter of bystanders, both passengers and well-wishers, the air hung heavy between the two men. It seemed that everyone else was waiting until the last minute to board too.

      Dread settled in every nook of Connor’s insides, clogging his thirium lines and weighing down his biocomponents. He stood, rousing Sumo from his feet. The dog seemed to sense the change nearing, and he hardly had a chance to whine before Connor was on his knees and hugging the canine. He didn’t care if he was getting dog hairs on his uniform. Fingers bunching affectionately into the thick fur, he pressed his face into Sumo’s neck. “Watch out for Hank for me, will you?” He murmured, voice muffled.

      Soft grunting was the only answer he received, and, after 5.02 seconds more of the embrace, Connor pulled away and pressed a quick kiss between the dog’s eyes. A slobbery lick was given in return, and his half-smile resurfaced.

      “I know, I know. I’ll miss you too…” After giving his head another pat, Connor made himself stand. Hank had averted his gaze, pretending to be distracted by the line of androids passing through the gate. Connor didn’t need to run a scan to see that the action was false.

      The older man faced him again, his jaw tight; unable to hold eye contact. “I meant what I said, y’know, about you making friends.” He glanced at the kid and – damnit – he was just a kid. _His_ kid.

      “I know what you meant, Hank.” He said this with a small, reassuring smile, then looked to the side, LED transitioning to yellow as he considered something. “Listen...” Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew his coin and took a moment to somersault it over his knuckles. In spite of the years of usage, it still looked freshly coined. “I wanted you to have this.”

      “If you’re trying to make a joke, it sucks.”

      Connor breathed a small chuckle, but shook his head. “No, I’m being serious.” He offered it to Hank, the coin perched between his forefinger and thumb. “And you’d better still have it if I -” halting, he quickly rephrased, “- _when_ I come back.”

      Hank didn’t seem to appreciate the slip-up. He nudged Connor’s hand away, “For fuck’s sake, Connor, keep it. I’ll probably end up spending it on–“

      “ _Hank_.”

      That shut him up. Hank studied his face. The poor kid looked so conflicted, so uncertain, yet it was obvious that he was attempting to mask that. It was entirely unsettling. Hank shifted on his feet and shook his head, “C’mere, kid.” He muttered, pulling Connor into a heavy embrace. “Don’t you go trying to be a hero, understand me? This isn’t Detroit anymore. No more common criminals, no more drug busts. It’s a war and – so help me – you’d better come back from it.”

      Connor nodded into his shoulder, the hug triggering all of the feelings he’d been suppressing. The emotions scattering through his coding were overwhelming. He gripped the man’s leather jacket like a lifeline. He wasn’t afraid of what lay ahead of him – he was afraid of what would become of Hank if he didn’t return; afraid of leaving behind the only family he’d ever known. He couldn’t stop nodding.

      “Write to me every day, and stay out of trouble – don’t you do anything I would do.”

      “Only if you’ll promise to do the same,” said Connor, voice breaking on the final word. Unlatching an arm, he pressed the coin into the lieutenant’s warm palm and squeezed. He locked his jaw and pressed his forehead into Hank’s shoulder, unable to calculate the proper approach. Goodbyes like this weren’t in his programming – because _he didn’t want to go_.

      Hank sighed, but accepted the coin with no more objections. He wrapped his arm around the lanky kid again, throat tight. “I promise, Connor, I promise. Just come home.”

       _“All passengers for flight DAL 3227, last call for boarding.”_

      Hank moved to release him, but his partner just tightened his grasp. He patted his back. “Kid, you’ve got to go. We both know what’ll happen if you miss this plane.”

      Frowning, Connor nodded once more. Androids who didn’t obey the draft were immediately put on a wanted list, detained, and then shipped off. Connor’s best guess was to the front lines. “You’ll be waiting for me when I return, won’t you, H-” He paused, drew in a little air and exhaled softly. When he next spoke, his voice was small and tentative. “...dad?” He wasn’t sure if he had the right to call him that. Even after everything that had happened, he was still insecure about it. Even though Hank always called him ‘son’, the Oxford dictionary defines it as ‘a friendly form of address that is used by an older man to a young man or boy.’

     The phrasing caught Hank unawares; yet, after a moment of stunned silence, he simply strengthened his hold on him. He knew what the kid was insinuating, as vague as it may be. No relapsing into late night rounds of Russian roulette. He’d have to be strong for him. “You can count on it, son.”

      Seemingly satisfied with the promise, Connor finally released his closest human companion. Moisture had gathered in his eye fixtures without his consent, and he blinked to clear it. He turned to collect his two things: an army hat and his baggage. He lifted the duffel bag, which had once belonged to Hank when he was in the Police Academy, and then pulled the hat on. The new accessory didn’t quite hide his LED, but it did make his appearance become rather… stoic. He shrugged the bag onto his shoulder. “Keep the streets clean for me.”

      “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.” Hank responded, watching as Connor started to turn for the gate. He’d only taken four steps before Hank remembered something and dug into his pocket. “Wait, hang on.”

     Connor stopped and closed his eyes, a segment of his jaw trembling where a human muscle would be. He couldn’t let himself crumble, not in front of Hank. So instead, he smoothed his features and faced him again. “Lieutenant?”

      Hank was busy struggling to get his phone to cooperate, then he held it up once he’d managed to activate the camera. “Can’t forget the traditional send-off customs. Ready?”

     Now grateful he’d erased any indications of emotion, Connor held still. Right, families always took photos before soldiers were transferred. Somehow, he hadn’t bore that in mind.

      Two photos later, Hank lowered the device and gave him a dry look. “Photos are for _smiling_.”

      Rolling his eyes, Connor smiled and relaxed his posture. Another photo.

      “Hat off.” Hank instructed.

      He didn’t bother arguing and tucked the hat under his arm, smiling less forcibly now. In this one small moment, he felt that everything might be okay after all. This was just another mission, and he always accomplished his missions. It grounded him, this brief sense of stability. Here was Hank, looking more than ever like a father as he fought with his phone, and Sumo pulling at his leash in an attempt to jump on Connor. His smile broadened, and the next moment he surprised Hank with a mock salute and a wink.

      Hank barked a laugh, tucking his phone away. “Save that for the ladies, kiddo.”

     _Yeah, everything would be alright..._

      Dropping his hand, he moved to hug the lieutenant one last time, but one of the armed men by the gate spoke up, irritation lacing their tone.

      “Hey! Gate is closing!”

      Dejected, Connor started backing for the gate. He pulled his hat back on, gaze still fixed on his family as he seemed to contemplate something. “I’m… I’ve grown very fond of you, lieutenant, and I’ll certainly miss our-”

     Hank held up a hand, his mask beginning to crack. “I love you too, son.” He said, though the words were strained - because this wasn’t right. It wasn’t fair, for this damn war to tear them apart, after they’d finally found happiness. But… life wasn’t fair; and Hank knew that better than anyone. His eyes grew red from the salty tears that threatened to spill, his brows drawn and lips pursed together. “Now go on, before you miss your flight.”

     Sumo whimpered, then surprised them both with an impatient bark. Connor forced a smile. “Be a good dog, Sumo. I won’t be long,” He met Hank’s gaze, expression bittersweet, but his eyes were filled with a new emotion: _sorrow_. “I promise…”

**Author's Note:**

> Due to the fact that Canada is still considered an Android-Free country, Kara, Luther, and Alice are spared from the Android Draft. Markus, being the leader of New Jericho and the representative for androids, is also spared, as well as a handful of New Jericho’s officials (Josh, North, Simon, and a few others). 80% of the RK900s were roped into the draft, including the RK900 assigned to the DPD, and now the DPD relies completely on human staff. The unemployment rate has dropped considerably, due to the number of vacant android positions, and Detroit has fewer Red Ice users thanks to that. Nonetheless, Detroit and its economy are still very unstable. The government insists that the draft was unavoidable, and that it is an improvement for everyone, but humans still miss their android companions.
> 
> -
> 
> I may or may not publish an epilogue. If I do, then it would only consist of the letters exchanged between Connor and Hank. My Beta readers support the idea, but I'd like to know your thoughts as well. Let me know in the comments below ! :)


End file.
